Euphemia Trinket, Tribute
by TheDarkLord'sMistress
Summary: After Haymitch Abernathy used their own tools to defy the Capitol, a rebellion is born and concludes in one final Hunger Games with Capitol children.


_I went to see Catching Fire yesterday and my feels are untamable so I did a thing._

_I hope you enjoy the thing._

_)o(_

It's been five years since Haymitch has won the Second Quarter Quell and things have been changing ever since.

He's outwitted the Capitol, used their own devices against them. He's given the people something to rally behind.

A spark was all it needed, really, for the unhappy mumblings of the districts to grow into a fully fledged rebellion.

His ma and brother, his girl have already been killed, so there's no reason for Haymitch not to speak out, pour oil on the flames of uprising.

It's five long years of blood and sacrifice and violence and another one hundred and twenty children are thrown into unforgiving arenas, another hundred fifteen die senselessly.

Then, finally, the Capitol falls.

Afterwards, no one wants to have been the one to have brought it up, but someone did, and the Capitol Games come to pass.

Twenty four kids will have to pay for their parents' sins.

A system is put in place that ensures both the punishment of the worst of the monsters and that the Capitolites face the terror of a reaping.

Six boys and six girls each are chosen straight away; all closely related to the highest ranking Capitol officials - among them Cassandra Snow, the president's youngest daughter, who, at seventeen, is his only eligible child.

For the other twelve tributes, a reaping is set up. Only the names of children, nieces and nephews of those affiliated with the Games go in.

They are assigned mentors by the order they are reaped in. Haymitch, as one of the newest victors, is told he will be mentoring. He is also told that he doesn't have to bother actually helping the kid, if he doesn't feel like it.

He is disgusted, as are all other victors. They have faced the arena and the loyalty to fellow sufferes trumps their hatred for the Capitol. He'll do his best for this kid.

* * *

Twenty four victors and twenty two tributes stand on stage, each tribute finding out who will hold his or her fate in her hands this way.

Only Haymitch and his own mentor have yet to be assigned their tributes.

A former rebel leader has taken over the reaping, as the escort actually forced into the position has broken down three tributes ago, when she had to call her own nephew's name.

Haymitch stands there, staring out at the sea of terrified faces and he can't help himself but wonder, _is this really what we fought for?_

But it is too late for such thoughts now, the final Hunger Games cannot be stopped.

So instead, he watches the rebel dig his hand into the glass ball to produce his tribute's name.

"Euphemia Trinket."

And he knows that name, even though he can't place it right away, but it feels like someone has stabbed him in the guts, and he knows all to well what that feels like.

It's only when the little blonde, shaking from her pigtails to her Mary Janes, makes her way slowly onto stage that he regcognises her.

* * *

_"Daddy'll make you all better,"she promises, smiling one of those heart-warming smiles that only young children seem to be capable of, a smile that puts him at ease. A smile that kids in his district have long lost by her age."He's always fixed up the Victors. You're the first one I've ever snuck to see, though."_

_She blushes furiously and even though he's in pain, he can't help but smile."Why's that, then?"_

_"I really rooted for you,"she whispers."I knew you'd make it home."_

* * *

Haymitch wants to scream and shout, protest that Doctor Trinket was a _good man_ and that his little girl should not be here. That she's never done anything wrong and that he can't, he won't watch her go into the arena to die, not when her tiny hand in his was all that kept him going, all that kept him from giving up and dying. The knowledge that there's still happiness and light in this world. That children could still laugh and smile, smile at _him_ even after all he had been through.

And now they want to take that single spark of hope away?

But he doesn't protest, because it would not do any good. The new world order knows as little mercy as the old.

So he simply reaches out and places a shaking hand on her trembling shoulder as she stares out at the crowd, refusing to let the tears fall.

* * *

_"You scared Daddy a lot,"she says lightly, dealing him a new hand of cards as he sits propped up against a few pillows."He thought you were going to die, I think."_

_"You didn't see, did you?"he asks, worried of destroying her almost painful innocence by dying – even if just very nearly – before her young eyes. She shakes her head."Some peace keepers took me outside to play."_

_His breath hitches and he swears his heart stops. She doesn't understand, of course, but he does, and her father does, too._

_Had Haymitch died, Euphemia would have been only the pull of a trigger behind him._

_He vows, there and then, that he will survive. For the little girl with the bright eyes and the playing cards._

* * *

"My father's a surgeon,"she tells Ceasar Flickermann."But a proper one, you know. Medical care, not plastic surgery. So I figure I've got an edge there. You can turn pretty much everything into an effective weapon if you just know where to hit someone."

She's catering to what they want to hear, she's doing well. Haymitch can't help but smile a little.

He knows those words only too well.

* * *

_"Didn't know you people had proper doctors,"he remarks one day, and the young girl frowns at him."What's that supposed to mean? Proper doctor?"_

_He shrugs."Y'know, medical ones. Figured they'd all be plastic surgeons."_

_"Well, that's no good for anyone, is it?"she says and he thinks that, if she'd grown up in the districts, she might have been friends with his little brother. They are rather alike..._

* * *

She sits at the window overlooking the Capitol, her legs hugged to her chest. Haymitch sits down next to her, a half-empty glass in his hand. He promised himself he wouldn't get drunk, not when he had to do his best for her, but he couldn't bear it entirely sober, either."How you doing, princess?"

"How do you think I'm doing?"she replies without turning away from the window. He shrugs. It was a stupid question, she's got him there."You got a seven in training, that's not too shabby. Nice interview. And you're cute, that's always a plus with sponsors."

Now, she does turn to look at him."You think I'm cute?"

It was just a throw-away comment on his part, but she's blushing so furiously that he can't even remember why he thought it was a good idea to say it. He doesn't answer, but she's already speaking, anyway."It's weird to think that I'll be probably dead tomorrow. I've still got a few weeks to go until I'm fifteen. I've never seen the sea, I've never been kissed, I've never even been on a date. And that's it, that's my life? How rubbish is that?"

He knows she's likely right about dying very soon, she's too young and too soft and too petite, but he can't give up on her and he can't have her give up on herself. So he leans in and he cups her face in his hands and kisses her. It's short and sweet and entirely innocent, but it takes both their breaths away."I'll take you on that date when you get back, yeah?"

* * *

Cassandra Snow has gathered a few of the older tributes around herself and the pack quickly establishes themselves as the Capitol equivalent of the Careers.

Within a few days, half the tributes are dead already.

The Gamemakers do not interfere much, apparently having decided they want to watch the children murder one another, no mutts to do it for them.

Euphemia does rather well, foraging and setting traps, locating three different water sources and alternating between them, not letting a possible spy make any sense of her routine.

She's allied with a thirteen-year-old boy, the only tribute younger than herself. Haymitch told her not to, because he knows it'll only make things worse for her in the end. She only abided by the rule for one day.

He sends her a knife, some rope and two sleeping bags on his own money before they ban mentors from sponsoring – he considered sending only one in hopes of the boy freezing to death at night, but he knew the girl wouln't have taken it for herself. So he helps little Seneca Crane, son of the last Head Gamemaker, aswell.

* * *

There's only four tributes still alive and his girl – Haymitch doesn't realises he's started calling her that and Chaff'll be damned if he points it out to him – is one of them, along with Cassandra Snow, Seneca Crane and Augustus Templesmith.

Templesmith is a burly eighteen-year-old armed with a pickaxe, so Cassandra goes for Euphemia and Seneca, even though that means she's outnumbered.

But she's older and taller and has been killing for days – even two of her own allies - so she quickly disarms both younger children. She shoves Euphemia aside carelessly as Haymitch's fingernails dig into his own palms, hard enough to draw blood.

"Wait in line, blondie,"the former president's daughter snaps at the girl struggling to get back up off the ground and drives her blade into Seneca's neck.

Euphemia, having lost hold of her knife, grabs a fallen branch from the ground and hits the older girl over the head, again and again, until she's splattered in blood and Cassandra stops moving, until her cannon sounds.

She kneels by Seneca's side and sobs as he takes his last breath."Win, Effie. You have to win."

"I will, Seni. For both of us. I swear I will."

* * *

Euphemia knows there's only two off them left and she knows how these Games work, she's been watching them for years. She rushes towards the Cornucopia; it all rides on whether she makes it there before Augustus.

"Come on, princess,"Haymitch urges her on, a shaking hand resting against the screen in the mentors' room. She can't have come this far just to die.

She sets traps all around the horn, quickly and carefully, covering them with twigs and leaves as best she can. She has barely finished and climbed the golden contraption when the Gamemakers finally decided to interfere, a pack of mutts chasing Templesmith towards her.

The canines back off once the boy – not man, because even he is just a child still – notices the petite blonde perched atop the Cornucopia.

He weighs his weapon in his hands."Come on down here, little girl. I'll make it quick, promise."

"Why don't you join me up here?"Euphemia quips. Her voice doesn't shake and Haymitch's heart swells with pride."The air is so much better up here."

The other tributes eyes her nervously, but he can spot no ranged weapon on her and he is tired, so very tired and can't bear the thought of the mutts returning to tear them apart. So he decides to go get her, like she demanded.

He has only laid one hand on the Cornucopia when Euphemia's trap yanks him off his feet.

He flails desperately for a few seconds before she cuts the rope. Augustus Templesmith's neck breaks with a sickening crack.

His father's sobs can be heard in the background as Ceasar Flickerman takes pity on him and does the announcement in his stead.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Victor of the 56th Annual Hunger Games, Euphemia Trinket!"

* * *

This time, it is Haymitch who sits by her bedside and holds her hand as she wearily opens her eyes."You did it, Effie. I knew you'd make it out."

"I'm not sure all of me has,"she croaks before she submits to unconciousness once more.

He understands her completely, and he's glad she didn't stay awake for him to lie and tell her it gets better.

It doesn't.

* * *

They don't see eachother for almost two years after she wins her Games.

Her father takes her all around Panem in hopes of the beauty of the world having a therapeutic effect on her and she sends him pictures from whereever she goes, little notes on them.

Mostly just _Bet you'd love it here, too_ or _Didn't know mountains were this beautiful_.

But sometimes, she'll write things like _I didn't think about killing her all day _or _Seeing these things makes me happy I'm alive, but that just makes me feel guilty _or _I'm really glad you didn't let me give up_.

No one has ever understood better, put his own thoughts into words the way she can. And so he begins to look forward to her messages and slowly, he drinks less and he smiles more and, when he knows she'll stick around a certain district for a while, he sends her pictures, too. There's not much to photograph in Twelve, but he finds things.

_They're building a new school_, his message might say. _That's baby Madge. They asked me to be godfather, can you believe it? _And, after changing his mind again and again, he sends the picture of what used to be the Seam and is now hardly distinguishable of town. _Rebuiling's going fantastic. Maybe it'll be pretty enough for you to come visit soon._

* * *

He doesn't expect the knock on his door, he really doesn't.

But there she is, all flushed cheeks and smiles and eyes that somehow still shine bright."You still owe me that date."

* * *

His house, which always seemed wrong and empty and undeserved, finally becomes a home.

They completely refurnish and redecorate it, even getting rid of the dining room table that Haymitch was sure Effie would love.

"It's mahogany,"she replies gravely, then tells him that actually, it used to be her favourite wood, before she held it in her hands with pieces of Cassandra's brain clinging to it.

The table gets thrown without any arguement.

Haymitch comes home one day to find his liquor cabinet turned into a china cabinet and realises he doesn't mind. That day is the first time he tells her he loves her.

* * *

Madge decides that her Uncle Haymitch and Aunt Effie are much cooler than her parents and have a totally amazetastic garden, as she puts it. So she and all her friends start dropping by all the time.

More often than not, some of the parents will come along and Marigold Everdeen and Effie become fast friends.

Haymitch always marvels at how perfectly his Capitol princess fits in in his home district. Well, it's her home now, too.

With their house becoming centre of all kinds of social gatherings, it is no wonder, really, that their daughter gets, like with her parentage, the best of both worlds – parental attention of an only child, but a downright mob of quasi-siblings.

Madge braids her hair and plays her the piano, Katniss gives her almost as many piggyback rides as she gives Prim, Peeta teaches her how to bake (which Trent Hawthorne's boy only makes fun of until he realises that the mayor's daughter thinks it's great, at which point he suddenly learns to make strawberry cake).

And while they still have their scars and nightmares, neither Haymitch nor Effie would changes anything that happened to them, as it lead them to where they are now.

To a world where their little girl can grow up without a daunting glass ball in her future.

_)o(_

_Yes, the mahogany thing was necessary, thanks for asking ;)_

_Anyways, I'm a sucker for AUs, but I never went _quite_ this AU, so feedback would be appreciated :)_


End file.
